The Devil's Road to Heaven
by Lucretia Malfoy
Summary: AU version of the Vampire Chronicles after a certain part of the book Merrick. This is my take on what would have happened if Lestat hadn't known Louis could be saved.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: I know this starts out sounding like a parallel to the prologue of The Vampire Lestat. I assure you that it is quite on purpose. This is the beginning of the first of several novel length fanfics I'm working on that take place in an AU (and EU) after the book Merrick. Please R&R.**

**THE DEVIL'S ROAD TO HEAVEN, by Lestat deLioncourt**

Prologue

I am the vampire Lestat. I am immortal. I'm absolutely positive of that now. I am six feet tall and I used to look about twenty one years old. Now I don't really appear to have an age. I have curly blond hair and grey eyes, which often seem blue or purple since they very easily reflect these colors. As of late, they have also reflected my true age –which is five hundred and seven- much better than they used to. Maybe that's because my maturity has finally begun to reflect my age as well. Dubitable as it may sound, these past three hundred years in general and the past ten years in particular have taught me well. Though if you attempt to tell that to any vampire who knows me, and of course they all do, not a single one of them would doubt that you were insane. Then again, you would have to be rather insane to approach a vampire in the first place. Insane or in the Talamasca. Not that being in the Talamasca is such a far cry from being insane these days. Sorry, I'm getting off track. Hey, I said my maturity had improved, not my abilities of concentration.

Back to talking about the other vampires. This book tells the story of their lives from the ominous day, three hundred years ago, when to the knowledge of any living (or undead) creature, I, the vampire Lestat at last died. Obviously it didn't exactly work out the way it was supposed to, but they thought it had. And it hurt them more that I imagined it would. If I had known how much pain it would cause them, I might not have done what I did. I didn't do it to hurt anyone. I swear on my very soul –not that I think my soul is worth much- I didn't. But I just couldn't handle being part of the world anymore. It was too much for me and no one seemed willing to understand that. They thought that just because I had woken up from my coma, which by the way was not self-induced, I was automatically alright. Sure, I was physically in one piece and uninjured, but that hardly means I was well. My sanity was somehow holding itself together, but my grasp on it was very precarious. Once Louis, my beloved fledgling, my reason for living died, I had no purpose and I became empty inside, except for the pain. By the time David, Merrick, and I reached France, I was only a shell of my former self. A silent, unmoving statue. And that is where this story begins.


	2. 1 DAVID: The End of the Chronicles

**PART I: THE TRADGEDY OF ROMEO AND JULIET**

Chapter one:

**DAVID**:

THE END OF THE CHRONICLES

David Talbot, the former Superior General of the Talamasca was sitting at a table in a hotel suite in Paris. His hands were folded neatly on the gleaming wooden table and his eyes were fixed on the notebook which lay open before him. He reread the final sentences for the thousandth time, still not really able to believe that what he has written was true. '_And as we boarded the plan that would carry the three of us and Louis' ashes to France, I knew that the Coven would never be the same again. Louis, who had started all of this in the first place, by giving his Interview to Daniel all those years ago, was gone. Our grand adventure was over and the Vampire Chronicles had at last reached their conclusion.'_

"David?" Merrick's uncertain and somewhat frightened voice jarred him from his reverie. He looked up and saw that she looked very worried, almost panicky.

"What's wrong Merrick?"

"He won't move," she said.

"What?"

"He won't move at all. He won't blink. He's not even breathing, David! It's like he's a statue." Finally he realized she must be talking about Lestat. He followed her quickly to the living room, where Lestat was sitting in a chair, unmoving. His back was turned to them and he seemed to be staring out the window.

"Don't worry, Merrick. It's the same thing that happened in the chapel," he reassured her. But it wasn't. When David rounded the chair and was able to see his maker's face, he almost leapt back. In the chapel, Lestat had looked as if he were merely daydreaming. His expression would almost be thoughtful and it had been easy to imagine he could have just looked up and spoken. But that was not how he looked now.

Now there was no expression at all in his features. His eyes held no emotion, not even a vague lostness. They appeared for all the world as if no conscious of sentient being looked out from them. They might as well have been made of glass. Any warmth of color which he might have fancied Lestat had, without a doubt had vanished without a trace. He was as cold and hard and unplyable as the marble from which he seemed to be sculpted. In all his years of life, David Talbot had never seen any living creature look as lifeless as this. Never had he found any living creature so terrible to look at as the being before him.

"Oh my God," he whispered, forcing himself to look away. This, he realized, was the horror Lestat had attempted to describe in his first book when he related the scene in which he first saw Akasha and Enkil.

"What are we going to do," Merrick asked quietly from the door way.

"How long has he been this way?" He blatantly ignored her question, which was both very rude and entirely unlike him. It was testimony of how the events of the past few nights had taken their toll on him.

"He was there when I got up." She paused for a moment. "I don't know if it's his habit or not to choose one place and stay there whenever he is awake, but it bothered me. I almost fancied he hadn't moved from that chair at all, that he never went into his bedroom this morning. He is in precisely the same position now that he was in when I went to sleep last night." When she said that, a sudden chill passed through his body and fear began encroaching on the boarders of his mind. Staring at the much older, more powerful vampire in the chair, David could imagined that he had not moved during the day, that he had not sought shelter from the sun. He surveyed his maker once more and this time noticed the strange reflectiveness of his skin, which looked like it had been polished until it gleamed. It could easily be the result of sunlight. In fact really nothing else could have caused it. David realized Lestat had done it on purpose. He had sat in that chair all day, waiting for the sun to kill him as it had done Louis.

But it hadn't. Lestat could not burn the way the others did. Then suddenly, the thought came to him painfully and sharply like a knife through the heart. What if the sun _had_ killed him? What if he was dead and what they were looking at was only a shell?

Violently, desperately, he shoved that thought away from him. It couldn't be true. He wouldn't allow it to be. Lestat was still alive, he had only withdrawn into himself. But how to wake him? That is the question the former Talamascan could not answer. He looked away from the statue-like being in front of him and gazed out the window, his brow furrowed in thought.

"We have to talk to Armand," he said at last, startling the fledgling behind him. "He has known Lestat far longer than we have. Perhaps he will know how to wake him."

"But David, we don't know where Armand is," Merrick protested, "You told me he only said he was going home. Home could mean anywhere to him."

"Actually we do know where he is," David corrected with half a smile, "It's something Marius told me. Vampires inevitably go home to the same place. They might stay away for decades at a time, but they always return. For Marius, home is the great cities of Italy. For Lestat it is New Orleans. For me it will always be London. For Armand, home is Paris. He's right here in this city, in which case, all we have to do is call out to him."

"Have you ever done that before," she questioned, "sought out someone specific without knowing their location?"

"No, but I don't see why I shouldn't be able to." The green-eyed witch looked at him skeptically, but decided to let him try, knowing that she couldn't come up with anything better.

David closed his eyes and summoned up all he knew of Armand. Finally, when he felt like he had grasped a sense of the other vampire, he focused all his energy and concentration on reaching out to him. Then he heard the familiar voice in his head.

_David?_ Armand sounded worried somehow David doubted he was the cause of it. _David, are you- never mind. Why are you in Paris?_ He almost sounded as if he didn't want to know the answer.

_There's something wrong with Lestat and we need your help._ He was avoiding the question and Armand knew that.

_Well what is it and why are you here?_

_The second question, I'll answer when I see you. As for the first, Lestat won't move. It is as if he has become a statue. The way he described Akasha. _There was a pause.

_What do you want me to do about it?_ If they had been conversing aloud, David would have growled in frustration.

_I thought perhaps you might know how to wake him._ David waited impatiently for a reply.

_I don't have any ideas at the moment, but I'll try to think of something. I will meet you at your hotel in half an hour._ Then the connection was cut off.

"What did he say," Merrick asked. Her arms were folded across her chest as she leaned against the wall.

"He said he'll be here in a half an hour." She shook her head. She did not seem to have very much faith in the abilities of vampires. The thought occurred to him that perhaps that was because she had such a weak grasp on her own.


	3. 2 ARMAND: The Shadow of Death

**Chapter two**

**ARMAND**:

THE SHADOW OF DEATH

After cutting the connection with David, the auburn-haired vampire sat brooding for a moment. Something bad was going to happen, or maybe it already had. Almost two days ago Armand had been woken from the death sleep –a thing he had not known was possible- by a sudden and strange sensation, almost like an emotional shockwave. He had felt pain, he could not be sure if it was physical, and an overwhelming despair. That had been followed by an even stranger feeling, like a dam breaking, or a string snapping, and all hell breaking loose. Then just as suddenly as it had come, it vanished, leaving him gasping for breath and shaking uncontrollably.

For a long time after that, he had lain awake in his coffin, troubled by the experience and unable to fall back asleep. Even when he rose from his coffin, the foreboding feeling did not leave him. Daniel apparently had felt none of this, for he had been completely normal when he woke up. He had neither complained of any strange occurrence nor expressed a feeling of worry. The fact that only he seemed to have experiences this put him ever more on edge, and David's news had only served to deepen his apprehension.

"To hell with a half an hour," he said to himself, standing abruptly, "I can think of solutions when I get there." Motivated by his building anxiety, he made it to the hotel in ten minutes.

He halted outside the hotel entrance to straighten his black silk shirt and neaten his auburn curls. Then he strode inside and over to the check-in desk. "Excuse me, I'm looking for a David Talbot. His room may be registered under either that name or the name Lioncourt." The receptionist didn't say anything, but he turned to the computer and typed in the name.

"That would be room 613," the receptionist told him.

"Merci." Armand barely looked at the man as he thanked him. By the time the second syllable had left his mouth, he was already half way to the elevator. The elevator, to his annoyance, seemed to move at a torturous crawl. 'It would have been better if I had just taken the stairs.' When at last the elevator got to the sixth floor, he practically bolted down the hallway.

Finding room 613, rapped sharply on the door. With his preternatural hearing, he could hear David and another vampire, whom he could not really read, moving toward the door. The other vampire, he assumed, was Louis. He had never been able to sense any more about the green-eyed vampire than his location and general mood. From what he could tell, Louis was nervous, but even so something seemed different. David was very, very anxious, even more so than Armand himself was. That did not bode well for Armand's prediction of disaster. He heard the click of the automatic lock as David pulled open the door. "Armand," he said, surprised, "I'm so glad you came." He stepped out of the way and Armand stepped into the living room of the suite. His gaze quickly swept the room and he saw Lestat sitting in the chair by the window. Louis was no where in sight, which was strange. When Lestat had been in a coma, Louis had barely left his side. He had been here a moment ago, hadn't he?

"Where did Louis go," Armand asked curiously after David had shut the door. He did not look at David, but if he had, he would have seen a pained expression cross the other vampire's face. "I sensed him when I was outside." David was saved the trouble of answering by Merrick, who had returned from her room.

"You sensed me." Armand whirled around, taken by surprise by the unfamiliar voice. The being who had spoken was indeed a black-haired, green-eyed vampire, but she was young and despite her coloring looked nothing like Louis. However she was indeed the one he had sensed.

"Armand," David explained, "this is Merrick, L-Louis fledgling." Armand raised an eyebrow at the obvious difficulty David had with saying Louis' name. After exchanging the proper pleasantries with the new vampire, he paced over to where Lestat was sitting with the plan to study him. Like David, however, he was unprepared for the disturbingness of his friend's countenance.

"Yes, I see why it is important to wake him as soon as possible," Armand mused. "Looking at him, one would believe that were he to remain that way for much longer, he would never wake." He paused for a moment as he considered that this could be the disaster he was expecting. Somehow he didn't think so. "Do you have any idea what caused this?" He looked at David expectantly.

"Actually, we know exactly what caused it." David didn't elaborate. Instead he closed his eyes and deep breath, exhaling loudly before continuing. "Armand, you should sit down. The news I am going to tell you is, to put it bluntly, terrible." This was the predicted disaster. Without taking his worried gaze from the other vampire, he sat down docily on one of the dark brown couches. Merrick also came and sat unobtrusively in an armchair which he could see out of the corner of his eye. David seated himself across from Armand and, taking one last calming breath, prepared to speak.

"What I am going to tell you is shocking and will seem unexpected without knowing the events that lead up to it. I am sorry that I cannot make in easier for you, but at the moment, going into such detail is too painful for me." Armand noted vaguely that even when in pain, David was polite to a tee.

"What is it?" The five hundred year old vampire was loosing his patience quickly as anxiety sapped it all away.

"There is no other way to say it other than simply and so that is how it shall be said. Armand," David said at last, "Louis is dead." For several minutes, Armand stared at him, his mind trying to wrap itself around the concept. At last he managed to choke out one word.

"_How_?" It was only one syllable, spoken hardly above a whisper, but somehow it conveyed all that David felt in his heart and was unable to express.

"He killed himself," David explained, "Two days ago, he dragged his coffin down to the courtyard where he lay with it open and waited for the dawn." Looking over at Louis' orphaned fledgling, Armand saw that tears rimmed her eyes. He could sense that she felt a great guilt for her maker's death. No one spoke for a long time. Then he pushed his shock to the back of his mind. Louis was gone, but Lestat was still here and he needed their help.

"If it is the trauma of Louis' death that caused Lestat to become like this," he began, "then it will undoubtedly be very difficult to wake him, but we must find a way. I have lost one friend to the light of the sun. I will not loose another to the darkness of oblivion." Inspired by these words, the three began wracking their brains for any ideas that might work. After about an hour of this, Merrick finally made a confession,

"I am trying to think of something useful, but I can't help picturing his face, hearing his voice. I-" Suddenly she stopped and a glimmer of inspiration graced her features. "Armand," she asked thoughtfully, "does Daniel Molloy still have the tapes of Louis' interview?" For a split second, Armand frowned and then comprehension dawned on him.

"Yes, he does. They're somewhere in my warehouse. It will take a while to find them, but I know that he has them."

"That's brilliant," David commended as he realized what her idea was.

"We can start looking now. It's only a few blocks away from here. But I'll have to call Daniel and ask him to meet us there, since he can probably find them much faster than we can." David nodded.

"The phone is over there," he said, pointing to the end table. "And while you're doing that, Merrick and I will move Lestat into his room. I'd feel much better if he weren't somewhere the sun could touch him." Then he left the other vampire to make his phone call.

Picking up the phone, Armand dialed Daniel's cell phone number. It rang once. Then it rang a second time. And a third. When it had rung six times, Armand realized he wasn't going to pick up the phone. Forcefully, he hung up the receiver. After waiting five seconds, he picked it up again and pressed redial. This time his fledgling picked up on the second ring.

"Hey Boss," he said in his usual cheerful tone, "sorry about that. I heard the phone ringing, but I couldn't remember where the hell I'd put the damn thing. So anyway, what's up?"

"I need the tapes of Louis' interview," Armand said impatiently.

"The tapes of- okay, sure, but why?" Daniel sounded very confused. Sighing Armand explained everything to his fledgling. There was a long silence on the other end of the phone, before Daniel said, in a voice that was more downtrodden than Armand had ever heard it, "Of course I'll meet you there. I'll just grab a jacket and then I'll be on my way. I'll see you in a few minutes, Boss." Then he hung up.

Twenty-five minutes later, the four vampires met outside the building that served as Armand's warehouse. It was in fact, not a warehouse, but a tower. The very same tower which Lestat had 'lent' to him over two centuries ago. Unlocking the heavy wooden door with his mind, Armand lead his three companions through a series of rooms and up the one continuous flight of stairs which would eventually bring them to the top of the tower.

"My stuff is on the top floor," Daniel explained to David and Merrick as they made the long trek upward. Some time later, the staircase at last came to an end and they stepped through a door a door and into a room. As they got their first lock at the clutter which was spread from wall to wall, David and Merrick both looked as if they thought the task ahead of them was impossible. Armand shook his head. He had warned them. There was a lot more stuff –junk or otherwise- stored in this room than would be expected. And, it must not be forgotten, Daniel Molloy was not the most organized person on the planet. They had no other choice it seemed, but to split up and begin looking for the boxes in which Daniel had stored all the tapes from his many interviews.

Several hours passed and seemingly countless boxes had been sifted through by the time Daniel let out a triumphant cry. "I found the right box!" The other vampires congregated around him. He had indeed found the right box, which was marked 'INTERVIEWS' in all capitals with red permanent marker. Eagerly he opened the box and much to Armand's surprise, the tapes were organized in alphabetical order according to the subject's first name. Sitting on the floor next to the box, Daniel started looking through the L's.

"That's funny," Daniel muttered with a frown a minute later.

"What's funny," Armand questioned.

"It's not where it's supposed to be." For a moment he continued to frown, but then he shrugged and said, "Oh well, I must have put it in by his last name." Armand, David, and Merrick watched anxiously for several more minutes until finally Daniel declared, "I can't _believe_ this!"

"They're not here, are they," Merrick said in a defeated tone. David and Armand also looked disappointed. Daniel on the other hand, got a determined expression on his face.

"No, they're not here. But I know I have them somewhere. And I _will_ find them. Just give me a second. It will take me a few minutes to remember where I put them. Let me see…" His voice dropped off as he began looking back in his memories for any clue as to where he might have put the much needed tapes. He sat so still for so long that had Armand not known Daniel as well as he did, he would have wondered if he had fallen asleep with his eyes open. Indeed, it seemed, from the expressions on David and Merrick's faces that they were thinking something very much along that line. Just when they all thought they would have to call it quits for the night, the vampire on the floor bolted to his feet. He did this so quickly that he startled poor Merrick, who seemed to be very weakened by recent events. "I've remembered," he said. "I know exactly where they are. They're in my desk in the bottom left hand drawer, along with the manuscript for the book."

"Why is it that you didn't remember that _before_ we began looking though this sorry excuse for a store room," Armand demanded in exasperation.

"Sorry, Boss," Daniel apologized sheepishly. "You know I always forget these things." Armand grumbled a response and then turning to Merrick and David, said,

"It's nearly dawn. It would be best if we all headed home. When Daniel and I get home, we'll check to see if the tapes actually are where he says they are. I'll call you with an update. Tomorrow we will hopefully be able to test our theory." With this having been agreed to, the four emotionally and physically tired vampires climbed down the winding stairs. They parted on the sidewalk, Armand and Daniel walking in one direction, David and Merrick walking in the other.

Armand and Daniel walked silently, neither wishing to say anything. Both of them turned their thoughts inwards and forwards to the future. They could not allow themselves to look back at all they had discovered and experienced that night. It was too difficult. And so they focused steadfastly on the possibilities of tomorrow night. They clung to their one hope because it was all they had at the moment.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Armand almost wished, though he didn't want to admit it, that they would not find those tapes. It would be better, he thought, to cling to the possibility of a hope that would never be fulfilled than to submit to the certainty of failure if their goal was unattainable. And so it was when they had reached home, had gone up to the study and he was grasping the handle of the drawer, that Armand found himself wishing selfishly, secretly, that the tapes were not there, and at the same time praying fervently to a god he no longer believed in, that they would be. In the end it was his faithless prayers that won out. There was the earliest typed manuscript for _Interview with the Vampire_, annotated and revised with blue pen until its original form was barely recognizable. And there, on top of the papers, were two tapes, each in a clear plastic case with a label on which was written in surprisingly clear hand, 'An Interview with a Vampire- The Story of Louis de Point du Lac.'

"I suppose I should go call David now," he said listlessly to no one in particular.

"I suppose you should," Daniel agrees, even though no question had been posed to him. It was the kind of thing one says when has no idea what to say, but feels that something must be said. Armand drifted out of the study, leaving Daniel to his own thoughts and made his way to his room, where he called the hotel and asked for room 613.

"Hello?" The sound of David's distinct British accent greeted Armand's ears.

"It's me," he said, not really needing to be more specific. "We found the tapes. They were just where he said they were. Honestly I don't know why he didn't remember it before."

"Don't hold it against him," David counseled, "he is distraught."

"We all are," Armand replied. There was and awkward silence following this comment. Then David broke in.

"It's almost dawn and Merrick and I are still suffering from jet lag. I think it would be a good idea if we got some sleep. And you and Daniel should try to do so as well."

"We will," Armand assured. "Good night David."

"Good night Armand." Then they ended the call. Both of them had known better than to say 'sleep well.'

For several minutes after he hung up the phone, Armand lay motionless on the bed, staring sullenly at the top of the canopy. His reverie was thankfully broken upon Daniel's entrance into the room. Armand, whose eyes were closed by now, felt a weight on the other side of the bed.

"Boss?" The weight shifted closer to him. "Armand, are you okay?" The auburn-haired vampire opened his eyes and saw his only fledgling looking back at him with an expression that was full of sympathy and concern.

"I am no more distraught than you are," he answered quietly, though he was not sure if that were really true. "Daniel," he asked meekly after a moment, "I don't want to be alone. May I sleep here in this bed with you instead of in my coffin?" He almost sounded fearful, as if he thought he request would be refused.

"Of course you can," Daniel answered, touched that for once he was seeing his maker's true emotions and feelings instead of the façade he almost always wore. Armand allowed Daniel to wrap his arms around him and he rested his head on Daniel's shoulder. Calmed by the steady rhythm of Daniel's breathing and the sound of his heart beat, Armand was finally able to turn his thoughts slightly away from his sorrow. A strange feeling came over him as he lay there, a feeling that was not at first recognizable, but which had a nagging familiarity to it. After much consideration, he belatedly realized that the feeling was comfort and security. These things, he knew, inevitably lead to a dependence on the one who provided them, but as he experienced these almost-new feelings for the first time in nearly five centuries, Armand decided that perhaps, just maybe, dependence was not such a bad thing after all.

The next morning they waited until the last rays had left the sky so that Merrick would be wide awake when they arrived. As it was, the extra time was well used, seeing as it took Daniel almost that entire time to find his cassette player. At about eight thirty, Armand and Daniel drove –actually Daniel drove and Armand berated him for his forgetfulness- to the hotel.

David, it seemed, had like them been up since the crack of dusk. Merrick had woken up a half an hour before they arrived and apologized profusely for being an inconvenience. All of them told her it was fine. Then they all filed into Lestat's room, where he sat in the same chair in the same position, and Daniel went about searching for a power outlet.

While Armand half watched these proceedings, he once again began to mentally utter his faithless prayers, begging for Lestat to be alright. He felt quite different now that than he had when Lestat was in a coma. Then, he had never doubted, really, that Lestat would wake up eventually, but now, after everything that had happened in the past three nights, he simply could not bear to see his friend looking so lifeless. Once or twice Armand had asked himself why he was so worried about Lestat. No answer had been forth coming. The truth was that Lestat was the only person Armand had ever considered an equal. Everyone else was either a virtual god, or someone who had nothing on Armand's abilities. Lestat had been his equal from the very start. Armand knew that now of course, Lestat's power had by far outstripped his own, but that bond was still there. They understood each other. He needed there to be someone in the world who understood him.

"Alright," Daniel said, "I think this thing will work. Now let's just hope this _plan_ works." He pressed the play button and sat back. All of them waited with baited breath as the sound of Daniel's voice came through the speakers.

"_You weren't always a vampire, were you?"_

"_No," came the answer in Louis' voice, "I was a twenty-five-year-old man when I became a vampire, and the year was seventeen ninety one."_ Armand glanced over at Lestat. There was no change.

"_Seventeen ninety-one. How did it come about?"_

"_There's a simple answer to that. I don't believe I want to give simple answers. I think I want to tell the real story._

"_Yes?"_

"_There was a tragedy. It was my younger brother … he died."_

"_It's not painful, is it?"_

"_Does it seem so? No. It is simply that I have only ever told this story to one other person. And that was a long time ago. No, it's not painful. We were living in Louisiana then. We'd received a land grant on the Mississippi near New Orleans…"_

"_Ah, that's the accent." _If something didn't change about Lestat soon, then it seemed this idea would be fruitless. Armand's gaze was glued to him, watching for any slight difference. And he only had to wait a moment longer.

"_I have an accent?" And he started laughing._


	4. 3 LESTAT: On the Edge of the Abyss

**Chapter Three**

**LESTAT**:

ON THE EDGE OF THE ABYSS

It was the laughter that woke me. Louis didn't laugh very often, so the sound caught my attention. I knew it was him laughing because I had memorized the sound. Usually, when he laughed like that, he was at his most open and happiest, so it was something worth remembering.

I woke slowly. I could hear voices and I knew who they belonged to, but the words were distorted, as if I were hearing them through water, and I could not understand what was being said. While I waited for my senses to return, I wondered why he was laughing. He must have been laughing at me. I imagined what he would say to me if ye knew I could hear him. 'Oh, Lestat,' he would begin in his usual vexed but affectionate tone, 'you must stop overreacting to things before you even know what is going on. You made yourself suffer all this pain for nothing. See, I'm fine.' And I would look up and yes, he would be fine, and I would get up and rush over to him and kiss him and hold him in my arms. And we would both be happy again.

In the instant that I regained my faculties, I immediately looked up to the place the sound was coming from. To my confusion, I didn't see Louis. I saw David, and Merrick and Armand and Daniel, but not Louis. And then I realized with an overwhelming anguish that his voice was coming from the little cassette player on the desk. It was just a recording, the tapes from his interview. I looked down at the floor as my eyes began to fill with crimson tears. Within seconds, silent sobs wracked my body and tears of blood stained my cheeks. Louis really was gone. I wanted to curl up and die. But I'd already tried that and it didn't work. The thought that I couldn't die, that this pain would never end, made me cry even harder. And then I realized how selfish my sorrow was and I cried tears of guilt. I shouldn't have been crying for myself, I should have been crying for Louis, who must have also endured as great a pain. It's not fair that someone as kind and wonderful as Louis should suffer like this. He should have been allowed to have happiness. But he made the mistake of loving me. And I wasn't good enough. I couldn't make him happy. I couldn't make him want to live.

I don't know how long I carried on like this, sobbing and following that train of thought around in circles until it all became one blur and I wasn't thinking at all. I must have attempted to stand and failed though, because when I eventually regained awareness on my surroundings, I was sitting on the floor with David, clinging to him exhaustedly.

"I could never make him laugh like that," I said quietly, my breath still hitching a little in my throat. I'm surprised they all knew what I was talking about. _I_ barely knew what I was talking about. "He would laugh for Claudia, or for you David, or even for strangers like Daniel, but never for me. Even when I did anything I could to make him smile." These sentences brought me back to my train of thought about guilt, and I almost thought I would start crying again, but for once in my life, it appeared that I had no more tears to shed. So instead I closed my eyes and took a long, shaky breath. Then I said to David, "I'm sorry, but I'm very, very tired. I want to go to sleep." At first he looked worried and exchanged glances, and probably thoughts, with Armand.

Once he was convinced that I meant only mortal sleep and that I would not get lost again, he looked down at me and said kindly, "Come on then, I'll help you up." He hoisted me to my feet and let me lean on him as I walked over to the bed. I lay down and he told me to try to rest. I told him that I would. I was numb. I should have said something to Armand and Merrick and Daniel, but in my state of mind, that didn't occur to me.

So they filed out of my room and David closed the door a little bit so that I could have some privacy, but left it partially open so that he could still keep an eye on me. I was glad he had left the light on. I had a feeling that I would have been afraid if it were dark. I noticed all these little pointless details because my numbness prevented me from considering anything else. And I remember thinking as I drifted off to sleep, that I very much wished my mother was there with me.

I must have been more tired than I thought, because when I awoke, both David and Merrick were already up. I entered the living room silently and neither of them saw me. David was sitting at the little wooden table over in the far corner, reading and apparently revising something that was written in a small black spiral-bound notebook. It looked like another book. He had already convinced Armand and Pandora to write books. Who on earth had he managed to con into this now? I would ask him later. Merrick was sitting sideways on one of the couched with a letter in her hands. I couldn't see what it said, but it must have been something dreadful, because the poor child was very upset and practically in tears over it.

"Merrick," David barked at last, "put that away. You're only making yourself feel worse." He turned around in the chair to face her and in doing so, saw me. He stopped dead as if he had just accidentally revealed some horrible secret. I had no idea what that look was for, so I decided to ignore it. I walked over to the other couch and sat down facing her, with my legs crossed and my right hand tapping idly against my knee. I acted as if nothing was wrong. I was still numb, you see.

I would have stayed that way too, if Merrick hadn't suddenly burst out, "But it's _my_ fault David. I let him talk to her. I called her. I shouldn't have done it. I knew what it could do to him, but I was selfish and just pushed those worries aside. Why did I have to be so selfish?" She was standing now, her voice louder and stronger than I had ever heard it. Her bright eyes were filled with tears, mortal tears. I had no idea she was that young. David hadn't told me yet when or by whom she had been made.

"How where you being selfish," David asked. I felt great pity for her. I too knew what guilt felt like.

"Don't you see?" She looked at him imploringly, but he did not understand. By now, I was watching their conversation raptly, waiting to find out what on earth they were talking about. "I normally would never have let someone talk to the spirit of a deceased loved one if I knew that it would cause the living person such a great deal of pain. But I let Louis talk to Claudia's spirit, even when I knew it could only do him harm." My mind froze and I was forcefully jarred from my peaceful enthrallment. Louis had spoken to Claudia's ghost. And whatever she had said had hurt him enough to make him kill himself. And it had been Merrick's doing.

For the first time since his death, I felt an emotion besides sorrow break through my numbness. For the first time I turned the blame to someone else. In an instant, I had gone from negligent indifference to a towering rage.

"If you knew, then why did you do it," I demanded fiercely. She turned and when she saw my face, she shrank back in fear. "Why did you do it?" My voice was low, dangerous, and as cold as dry ice. She did not have the option of not answering me.

"Because I wanted him to need my help, to need _me_, to want me. I even put a spell on him to make him think he was in love with me." I pulled from her mind the memory of Louis saying he loved her and could not bear to live without her. My rage shot to a pinnacle I don't think it had ever reached in the past. It was no longer something I controlled. Jealousy rose like a wild beast in my chest. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to tear her apart. But as always, my anger momentarily paralyzed me. I cannot truly describe this thing that I felt at that moment. It was as thou my rage and jealousy were suddenly made into physical energy that had a visual form, spreading all across the sky, staining my whole world blood red. Then, just as I reached the point at which my fury would overcome my paralysis, the overwhelming, strangling grief overtook me again, suddenly suffocating all other feeling, choking me, stabbing me. I fell from my height of rage to land dangerously to the edge of the abyss. And the black nothingness with its promise of antipathy beckoned so invitingly.

I teetered precariously on the edge for a seemingly infinite moment before I was forcefully shoved back awareness by a familiar presence. Marius. _ Don't you dare do anything foolish, at least not until I get there. Stay right wear you are, both physically and spiritually._ He said this as a firm command. I didn't know how he had known what was happening, but the idea of him being here with me in a short time gave me something to hold out for. Just a few more minutes until I could collapse against the reassurance of someone stronger than me, until I could rave without running the risk of hurting these two fledglings. Only a few more minutes, I told myself, only a few more minutes until you can let go of your control. Only a few more minutes until you can let go of your sanity.

"Lestat?" David was looking at me cautiously, as if he didn't know what to expect from me. Would I break out into tears, or destroy them? Better safe than sorry seemed to be his philosophy. Merrick was standing beside or rather behind him, shielding herself from me.

"Marius is on his way here," told them in a dead voice. That's not at all what he was asking. But I couldn't tell him if I would be alright eventually, because I didn't know. At that moment, I didn't think it was likely. I think David wanted to say something else to me, but ignored him and, zombie-like, walked out of the room. My legs were too weak to hold me up and they buckled under me as I literally fell onto the bed. My mind was once again a muddled disaster of despair. I lay utterly senseless for only God knows how long before I realized people were in my room again. Talking about me again.

"How long has it been since he last fed?" Marius was asking David.

"I don't know, a very long time. Months perhaps."

"Then even the temptation of my blood is unlikely to rouse him from that stupor. For one so powerful as he, it would be decades before he starved. Likewise it would take far more than half a dozen months for the bloodlust to become an irrepressible instinct."

"I'm already awake," I announced groggily when I finally dragged myself out of my daze. Slowly, I sat up. The movement tired me. Everything tired me. I felt the way I had felt before I went to ground in the twenties. Even for all the blood in my veins, I felt as weak as I had the night I was made, after Magnus drained me nearly to the point of death. I must have said some of this out loud because they were all looking at me strangely with a mixture of worry and pity. I bristled. I didn't want their pity. "What are you looking at me like that for," I demanded in a fierce voice. My fangs were bared in a snarl. When none of them answered me, I yelled for them to leave me alone and stormed out of the hotel.

I needed to kill. That was the only thought in my mind. _We only know peace when we kill._ Memories were brushed away. I stalked though the dark streets of Paris almost blindly. I knew that I would kill the first mortal I met in a reasonably secluded place. The misfortune happened to fall upon a beautiful young man in his twenties, who had no business being out this late at night. He was no evil doer. He had led a decent and modest life. He was a generally kind person. But I didn't think about any of this when I read it from his mind as I followed him down the dark alleyway that would lead him to his back door. All I was aware of was the scent on the blood that pumped through his veins. Before I could even consciously think in words that I wanted him, he was already locked in the steel embrace of death. Hid hot mortal blood gushed into my mouth and I drew it out even more violently. Like alcohol, it intoxicated me and drowned out everything that tortured me. It was not the rapture I was used to. It was not the peace I so desperately sought. But it was enough.

When finally I had drained him to the last drop, I let the body fall to the ground. I came out of the swoon feeling not quite so like a zombie, not quite so numb, but my head was clear for the first time in nights. With this new clearness, I took a good look at my victim. He was young, no older than twenty-five. His clothes were well made, but not incredibly expensive. His hair was short and curly, the color of chocolate. His eyes were closed. I did not know what color they were.

Out of a curious impulse, I crouched down and took his wallet from his pocket. His ID wasn't clearly visible, so I pulled it out of the little pocket it was in. Another piece of paper fell on the ground when I did this. I never did end up looking at his ID. I reached down and picked up the piece of paper. No, it was a picture. He and a girl around his age with red brown hair and brown eyes were hugging as they smiled at the camera. They seemed to be in love. Both of them looked so happy. I stared at the photo for minutes with a nagging feeling in the back of my mind. An odd sensation which I didn't remember the name of was creeping in and I didn't like it at all. It was as if there was a voice talking to me, in the back of my head. _You don't understand, do you?_ It said, but it didn't use any words. _Look at them. Think about it._

"Think about what," I asked aloud. If anyone saw heard me shouting to myself, they would probably think I was insane. And they would probably be right, but the voice was right too. I didn't understand.

_About her. About him._ I looked at the picture, trying to get rid of my confusion. The realization of what the voice was trying to tell me crept in slowly, at first just a vague uncomfortable feeling which finally bubbled up to form the thought, 'They loved each other.' And after that, other thoughts came like a flurry of bullets. She loved him. He loved her. He was her world. And now he's gone. Just like Louis, who was my world. My life is meaningless without him.' And that's when it hit me with all the horror a revelation like that can have. I had inflicted exactly the same torture on that girl that I myself was suffering under. I had taken away someone's reason to live. When I killed that boy, I destroyed her life. And it wasn't just her life I had destroyed. Every person I had ever killed had been someone's beloved, someone's child, someone's best or only friend. Every person I had ever killed had meant the world to someone else. For every person I ever killed, there was someone else who suffered as I do now. And as the terrible reality of it set in, I felt the dagger in my heart twist painfully with the pangs of the feeling I now recognized. I had killed this poor, young, innocent boy and I felt wretched for it. For the first time in my entire existence as an immortal, I, the Vampire Lestat, felt guilty for killing a mortal.

I sank to my knees on the pavement and covered my face with my hands. "Oh God!" I cried out loud, "This is what Allessandra meant. This is what it means to be unable to bear killing mortals! What a fool I was to think I knew. This is unendurable. Oh, God please help me! Lord God, help me!" I closed my eyes and continued to wail out pleas like that. The words became a mantra.

My voice was only a whisper and my whole body was trembling by the time I felt a strong hand grasp my arm and pull me to my feet. Surprised, I stumbled against the being, who caught me so that I did not fall. I stared at his pale face and long straight hair like spun gold and his grey eyes that seemed to hold the wisdom of eternity in them. I didn't know what he was. Was he an angel? No, I had seen Angels before and they never looked this ethereal in their human forms, not even Michael. I stared blankly at him for an entire minute before it registered that he was a vampire and that he was Marius. Bewildered by my lack of recognition, I kept staring at him, wondering how on earth I hadn't known it was him. The ice around my thoughts thawed finally and I was able to observe things normally.

It was raining. I was soaked. I was cold. How long had I been out there? It was almost dawn. I let him lead me down the streets toward the hotel. My senses were all registering as they should and I could form coherent thoughts, but felt lost. Disconnected from the world around me. There was no drowning despair, strangling guilt, or blinding rage. There was only that sense of strangeness. It wasn't that I couldn't recognize the world. It was that I couldn't recognize me. I could remember people, places, events from my past and I knew they should have made me feel something, that they were important. But I couldn't remember why they were important or what they were supposed to make me feel. I wasn't dead and empty inside anymore, neither was I even numb. I was just detached from myself, from everything.

"Lestat," Marius said gently as we halted on the sidewalk right beneath the balcony of my suite. I looked up at him. I had been looking at the ground. "Put your arms around my neck and hold on. We're going to fly up to the room, alright?" I did as I was told. I felt no wonder when we took to the air. I knew I had the ability to fly. But I didn't feel any familiarity at all. That didn't bother me though. Nothing affected me enough to bother me.

We landed in the room and immediately David leapt up, a paradoxal expression of worry and relief on his face. Armand, Daniel and Merrick were there as well. When I stepped away from Marius, he embraced me tightly. I returned the embrace because that was what I was expected to do. He brought me to my room and I changed into dry clothes. Then we went back to the sitting room where everyone assured themselves that I was unharmed before they returned to their own residences to sleep. Marius' was across the hall.

Soon, everyone had left and Merrick had gone to sleep. David and I were the only ones in the room. He took this opportunity to embrace me again, holding me tightly to him, as if afraid I would fall apart if he let go. Then he told me how worried he was about me and how much he cared about me. I should have felt touched by this, but none of what he said or did affected me. Nothing felt comforting. Nothing felt uncomfortable.

Nothing felt.


End file.
